Faces of a Coin
by Razgriz Ace
Summary: A part of Vaughn couldn't believe he was sitting, and very nearly reminiscing with Julian Sark, but the rest of him knew stranger things had happened. Not a slash piece


A/N: Set sometime after Season Five. My thought was, what if when Syd said, "Don't look at me you're the one who let him go" at the end of All the Time in the World, she wasn't talking about the incident in the finale.

**Faces of a Coin**

The vault door had locked behind him. In normal circumstances this would have been bad. True, the French ambassador whose home they were invading had abandoned the property for the weekend, which meant they would actually have a few hours to solve the problem, but under no circumstances would the situation have been considered good.

The fact that he had just been locked in with Julian Sark was about the worst case scenario anyone could have imagined. In fact, no one had bothered trying to imagine it.

Sydney and Vaughn had been sent to retrieve a set of sensitive documents from the ambassador's home. It should have been a quick crack and grab job, and would have been, were it not for the appearance of Sark. Apparently, the also housed several million dollars in diamonds. It was bad luck all around.

The old rivals had been a little taken aback to see each other, but each had drawn their weapon in a blink. The standoff had begun.

The lead lining of the vault blocked out the comm-links, but he had heard Sydney running down the hall toward them before the door had locked. He kept his gun trained on Sark and didn't look away from the man, but he didn't need to see his wife to know what the look on her face must have been like. She had abandoned her post to see what was taking so long, and since neither Vaughn nor Sark were in a position to move, she had tried in vain to make it to them before the timer re-locked the vault. She was now almost certainly barking at Marshall for instructions on how to break him out.

The men had been left to stare each other down.

Vaughn was first to break the silence. "Well honestly, I don't see this working out for either one of us," he breathed.

Sark cocked his head a little in question.

Vaughn gave a tired sigh, but his gun hand was steady. "I shoot you first and there is always the slight chance that you can get a shot or two of your own off before you actually die. You shoot me first, and I guarantee that nothing in this world will stop my wife from hunting you down. Seeing as we're stuck in here, my guess is it won't take her very long. Plus, I've been shot about fifteen times before. I promise you, I'll last long enough to shoot you at least once," he took a moment to size up the man in front of him. He could tell there was something different. Their last meeting had been so long ago, they were both different people then. "See," he continued, "neither of these scenarios end with either of us living much longer."

"So what exactly do you propose?" Sark asked.

"A truce," Vaughn stated. "We sit in our corners and wait for Sydney to get us out. When the door opens again, I keep the documents, you take your diamonds and we go our separate ways."

Sark gave an evil smirk, "You've gone soft in your old age." Then he tilted his gun away from Vaughn and put up his other hand to single an armistice. "But it seems we have an accord." He tucked his gun in the back of his pants and raised his eyebrows at Vaughn, who hadn't lowered his yet. "Truce Mr. Vaughn?"

"You're not going to take a pop at me if I lower this?" Vaughn needed to be sure.

Sark moved to take a seat in the corner of the vault. He put his hands on his knees. "There would certainly be no fun in that," he yawned, "I am a man of my word sir."

"Unless you're getting paid," Vaughn scoffed, but he too tucked his gun into his belt and took a seat in the opposite corner.

The next two hours passed slowly. Vaughn could not hear what was going on outside, but he had to assume Sydney was getting close. The vault luckily wasn't vacuum sealed, but he estimated that, with Sark there, they only had about eight hours worth of oxygen. Though he knew he wouldn't actually start worrying about that until they hit the five hour mark or so. It had only taken them a few minutes to break in, so he hoped the wait was simply Marshall trying to find the next round of codes for the door.

Still, the weight of the silence began pressing down on them, and boredom started setting in. After a while, Sark began to fidget. Staring at walls was not something he considered a pastime.

Finally, he broke the quiet. "You know," Sark said, looking mildly contemplative, "Eight years ago you would have just tried to arrest me, consequences damned."

Vaughn shrugged, "Eight years ago I didn't go home to a wife and two kids. I guess I've got new priorities."

A word piqued Sark's interest.

"Two kids?"

"A boy. Jack."

Sark nearly smiled. "I'm afraid I don't have any cigars on me. I do, however, see your point."

"You're a weasel, but I know better than to underestimate you. Frankly, there are some things and some people worth getting killed for. You're not on that list."

Sark shrugged in return, "Fair enough."

"What about you?" Vaughn countered, "Back then, you would have just tried to shoot me and leave me for dead."

A part of him couldn't believe he was sitting there, and very nearly reminiscing with Julian Sark, but the rest of him knew stranger things had happened.

Sark nodded in agreement with Vaughn's accusation. "I probably would have, but I think you could say I'm older and wiser now."

Vaughn snorted at that, "Don't tell me you're seeing the error of your ways?"

"Hardly," Sark smirked, "There are very few things in my life that I actually regret." A second later though he sighed, "I was never one of those people who took pleasure in killing. Despite what you and your wife may think of me, I was never a sociopath. It was just that back then, I associated killing with winning, and in case you haven't noticed Agent Vaughn, I like winning very much."

Vaughn just shook his head and they fell silent again. Still, a bug of curiosity was eating away at Vaughn. It chapped his mind until he couldn't help but ask.

"So somewhere along the line you realized they weren't synonymous? Killing and winning."

Sark's head snapped up; surprised that Vaughn was continuing their conversation.

Sark nodded. "They just aren't that closely related. Sometimes they can be. Trust me, if you'd been chasing me down a hall I would have no problem, 'taking a pop at you', as you put it. But in my freelance work I don't do 'assassin for hire' anymore. It's poor sportsmanship. And frankly, no one wins in those scenarios."

Vaughn wrinkled his brow, "You just woke up one morning and decided this?"

Sark turned his head away, "You of all people don't want to hear this." He suddenly seemed annoyed.

Vaughn caught on quickly. "Lauren?"

Sark tipped his head back, resting it against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"You don't have to answer anything, but you're the one who started this."

Silence followed for a long while after that. Sark kept his eyes in the ceiling. Vaughn assumed the conversation was dead, when Sark surprised him.

"Lauren was only part of that," Sark said, "I thought I was in love with her, but when I got out of prison-"

"Escaped," Vaughn felt the need to correct him, but Sark ignored the contradiction.

"- and was able to interact with people again, live outside solitary confinement, I realized I didn't miss her. She and I shared something strong, and it could have eventually been love, but she was dead and The Covenant had fallen. There was no product of our relationship that wasn't destruction."

"I can vouch for that," Vaughn said resentfully.

They both eyed each other for a moment, both checking to make sure neither was reaching for their gun.

"After that, I tried to give up this life. I thought I could just be normal, but that was a joke. The boredom got to me in less then a year. So I came back to my work, but a bit…modified."

"Until you got involved with Sloane and Irina again," Vaughn said.

"Ah, and there we have something on my very short list of regrets," Sark confessed, "It was during that whole ordeal that I realized that I envied you."

Despite the heavy topic of conversation and the shear strangeness of all of it, that statement managed to catch Vaughn off guard.

"Pardon?"

Sark laughed bitterly, "I'm not saying I thought you were a bloody roll model, but you certainly had something to believe in. I got a look at both sides. On one end, there was Irina and Sloane. I never bought into Rambaldi the way they did. I never thought he would bring me deliverance. Fortune maybe, but not salvation," he gazed at his shoe and rubbed the expensive leather with his thumb, shining the toe a bit.

He continued, "Then on the other side there was you and Sydney. I used to think love was a weakness, a liability, but seeing the two of you stand by each other on the verge of the apocalypse..." he trailed off for a moment. "There are moments in life - epiphanies that you shouldn't ignore - and that day I knew… I was jealous. Jealous that for all my travels and all my exploits I never managed to find a woman like Sydney Bristow. Never managed to love the way you two did."

Silence. Sark's words seemed to have strangled the air from the room.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Vaughn asked, interrupting the quiet once again.

"There's no one left who would understand. No one who remembers what it was like back then."

"It was different," Vaughn nodded, "When Sloane was around and when Rambaldi was involved everything was just so…"

"Volatile," Sark provided the word. "I agree. There are still terrible things in this world. Much worse and much greater than the things I do. Still, I can't help feel this overwhelming sense of…"

"Peace," Vaughn filled in this time. "Everything…all the good and evil seems mild in comparison."

Sark just looked at him and Vaughn knew they were finally in agreement over something.

The door was creaking, a sign that Sydney was finishing cracking the locks.

"So is this how it's going to be from now on?" Vaughn asked unable to hide his smirk, "Friendly negotiation all the time?"

Sark snorted with laughter, "Doubtful! We have to fight each other Agent Vaughn. That's how we keep the world in balance. Two faces, one coin. That's why we've never managed to kill each other."

Vaughn smirked knowing Sark was right. They would always be enemies, but hating each other to the point of wanting the other dead took more energy than either of them had anymore.

"It's unfair to tip the scale," Vaughn concluded.

End.


End file.
